The air of Mount Myōboku was always thick with dampness—stone and moss heavy on the breath, the sharp tang of pondwater cutting through the mist. Mushrooms the size of towers stretched their caps across the sky, blotting out the sun in patches. Shadows swayed with the morning fog, alive with croaks that echoed like a thousand unseen voices.
For most shinobi, this place would be unsettling. To Jiraiya, after half a year, it felt like a second home.
He sat on a jutting slab of rock, white mane stirring faintly in the breeze. An unopened sake bottle rested at his knee, but he hadn't touched it. Not today. His eyes weren't on the drink.
They were fixed on the boy below.
Naruto stood balanced atop a carved stone toad, knees bent, hands pressed together in meditation. His breath was steady, measured, the kind of rhythm Jiraiya would've sworn was impossible for the loudmouthed brat six months ago. The mountain's energy seeped into him with every breath. Jiraiya could feel it—an invisible tide blending into the boy's chakra until faint orange markings etched themselves around his eyes.
And this time… Naruto didn't tremble. He didn't seize up, or fall over, or sprout stone warts down his arm like in those disastrous first weeks. The energy sat inside him like it belonged.
"…Hard to believe," Jiraiya muttered.
Beside him, Fukasaku chuckled, throat bubbling. The elder toad's yellow eyes gleamed with quiet pride. "Six months ago, the lad was greener than pond scum. Near turned to stone first try."
Jiraiya huffed. "Thought we'd be shipping him back to Konoha as a lawn ornament."
But humor slipped quick. Because what stood down there wasn't the same brat. His chest rose slow, even, every inhale pulling the weight of the mountain deeper into him. His chakra didn't buck against it anymore. It welcomed it, wove it into the current.
Jiraiya's throat tightened. "From clumsy Chūnin to… hell, near Jōnin elite. In six months. It shouldn't even be possible."
Fukasaku folded his webbed arms, tone firm. "Yer forgetting who he is. The lad's got a gift. Instinct. He hears correction once, sees something once, and it's his. Haven't seen the like since the Fourth."
That name cut sharper than Jiraiya expected. Minato. His shadow never left, not even here.
Below, Naruto's eyes opened—pigmentation etched sharp, the aura of Sage chakra humming around him. He looked up, grinning as boyish as ever.
"Oi, Pervy Sage! Twice as long as yesterday! Did you see?"
Jiraiya raised a lazy hand, hiding the swell of pride in his chest. "Not bad. Try not to petrify before dinner."
Naruto groaned, but only laughed, hopping down from the toad statue with a fluidity that hadn't been there six months ago.
Life on Mount Myōboku never went easy.
Morning began with balance, Naruto perched on thin posts, stilling his mind while natural energy seeped in. At first he lasted seconds. Now he could sit until the dew dried.
Then sparring. Fukasaku barking orders while Naruto launched himself at massive toads, fists wreathed in gathering Sage chakra. Missed blows cracked stone. Landed ones sent shockwaves flattening grass.
And when the light grew thin, Jiraiya stepped in. Sometimes he fought Naruto barehanded. Sometimes he matched him with his own Sage form. Either way, the boy stretched further each week, faster, sharper—until even Jiraiya had to sweat.
One spar, Naruto lunged with a wide spinning kick. Jiraiya blocked, barked, "Too wide!"
Next exchange—compressed, tighter, weight coiled. Jiraiya grunted at the sting on his forearm.
Another time, Fukasaku croaked, "Mind yer spacing, lad! Don't crowd yer clones!"
And just like that, the next wave fanned out like a drilled platoon, striking in layers that even Jiraiya had to take seriously.
It wasn't training. It was evolution in motion. The brat absorbed corrections mid-fight. He bent failure into progress.
Sometimes, Jiraiya caught himself thinking: If he had three more years, he'd eclipse Minato.
And every time, he shoved the thought down hard.Progress wasn't clean though.
Naruto nearly drowned twice at the oil waterfall, his chakra refusing to sync. He sprouted stone arms more times than Jiraiya could count. Once, half his body warped into a warty toad's skin, sending him howling until Fukasaku smacked the energy back out.
"Y-you're sure I won't stay like this forever?!" Naruto had panicked.
"Relax, lad," Fukasaku croaked. "If it stuck, you'd already be stone!"
Naruto sulked for hours. But the next dawn, he was back on the post, jaw set. That was the difference. Other students broke. Naruto just came back louder.
Jiraiya pretended not to notice how rare that was. By the sixth month, Naruto could hold Sage Mode. A minute, maybe two. Then the balance slipped.
One afternoon, stone crept over his cheek, and he tumbled from the rock with a yell.
"Not again!" He sat up, growling. "How's this supposed to work in a fight? I can't just plop down cross-legged while someone's trying to kill me!"
"That's the price, brat," Jiraiya said, leaning back against a toad statue. "Power like this isn't meant to be easy. You think I can hold Sage Mode forever?"
Naruto spun on him, eyes blazing. "Don't compare me to you! Or the Fourth! This is me! I'll figure it out!"
Jiraiya blinked at the outburst. That raw fire hurt to look at. But he waved a hand, forcing a smirk. "Fine. Stone yourself all you like."
Naruto turned away, fists tight. There has to be another way.Frustration boiled. Naruto threw his hands into a seal.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Three Narutos popped into being, groaning in unison. "Man, this is hopeless."
One plopped down in the grass, arms crossed. "We'll never get it if we just sit around."
Another scratched his head. "What if… we all tried at once?"
Naruto froze. His clones… he was an idiot he forgot all about using shadow clones to extend Sage mode.
His grin spread, wild. "Oi… what if they gathered natural energy for me?"
The clones blinked, then lit up the same way. "Ohhh, genius!"
"Damn right!" Naruto whooped. "Shadow clones for the win!"
⸻
"Oi, Pervy Sage! Gramps Sage! Watch this!"
Before they could scold him, Naruto spawned five more clones. He barked orders like a drill sergeant.
"You three—sit! Don't move till I say!"
Three Narutos dropped into meditation poses, still as stone.
The other two rushed Jiraiya with grins wide.
Jiraiya blinked. "What the—?" He blocked one's kick, shattered another with a palm strike. But his eyes flicked to the meditating clones. They weren't dispersing. They were gathering.
His stomach dropped. "…No way."
Naruto lunged at him, fist tight, Sage pigmentation snapping around his eyes without pause. His chakra refilled mid-motion, pouring from the dispelled clone into his own.
The aura roared.
"Now this," Naruto shouted, slamming forward with a Sage-powered punch, "is Sage Naruto!"
The clash shook the clearing. Jiraiya blocked with both arms, forced a step back.
Naruto pressed on—clones circling, dispelling at intervals, flooding him with natural energy again and again. His strikes grew sharper, faster, every movement fluid with replenishment.
It was seamless. Brilliant. Terrifying.
Fukasaku's eyes went wide. "Well I'll be! No human's ever thought of that!"
Naruto ducked low, spun, and drove a kick into Jiraiya's gut that shoved him three paces back. Dust rose in a halo.
"Well?" Naruto panted, eyes glowing, grin fierce. "How's that for balance?"
Jiraiya staggered, then laughed, deep and booming. "…You crazy brat. You actually pulled it off."
⸻
Evening Reflection
By dusk, Naruto sprawled snoring in the grass, grinning even in sleep. His clones had dispersed, but the energy still clung faint.
Fukasaku puffed his throat. "Mark me words, Jiraiya-boy. That lad's climbed from raw Chūnin to matchin' any Jōnin alive. With this trick… even yer Sage Mode looks sluggish."
Jiraiya didn't answer at first. His eyes lingered on the boy—on the son of Minato, the student who with a year of hard work went from failure to genius.
"…He's dangerous," Jiraiya murmured finally. "Learns too fast. Innovates too fast. That kind of growth burns people out early… or it makes legends."
Fukasaku's voice was soft. "…And you think he'll be the latter?"
Jiraiya tilted back his sake, the burn sharp down his throat. His lips curved in a faint, weary smile.
"I think… the world's not ready for him. But he is ready to learn the truth about his parents. I think it's time I told him"
Naruto POV
"…Oi, brat."
The tone was different. Serious. Heavy.
I pushed myself up on my elbows. "What is it, Pervy Sage? You look all serious."
He gave a short chuckle, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't get used to it." Then he looked straight at me, like he was bracing himself for something. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."
And just like that, I knew what was coming.
Finally.
He was going to tell me about them.
"My parents," I said quietly, almost to myself.
He blinked. "Yeah. Your parents." He drew a breath. "Your father was Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage. Your mother was Kushina Uzumaki. She was fierce, stubborn, loud as thunder… but kind. Brighter than anyone I knew."
There it was. The truth. Spoken at last.
I should've felt shock, maybe anger. But I didn't. I'd known all along. That was the curse and the gift of being who I was. A reincarnator, carrying memories of another world where all this was just a story.
The "secret" of my lineage had never been a secret to me. I'd known Minato was my father the moment I saw the faces on the Hokage Monument. Kushina's temper, her chakra, her laugh—I'd known before anyone ever spoke her name.
Still… hearing it now, from him, felt different. Real. Heavy in a way the meta knowledge never was.
"…I know," I said.
Jiraiya stiffened, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"I know." I smiled, small and sad. "I figured it out a long time ago. The way people talked, the way you looked at me sometimes. And… well, I had help putting the pieces together." More help than he could imagine.
He looked like I'd just kicked his legs out from under him.
"You're not angry I didn't tell you sooner?"
I shook my head slowly. "No… I'm not mad. It's not like knowing sooner would've changed anything." My throat tightened, and I forced the words out. "The truth is… I already figured it out. And I've kinda… carried it with me for a while now."
I let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Doesn't make it hurt less, though. I never got to hear their voices. Never got to… feel what it was like to be with them. That part still sucks."
For a second I couldn't look at him, so I stared at the fire instead, watching the embers burn. "But even without meeting them, I know who they were. I've seen enough. The way people talked about the Fourth… and the way Mom's stubbornness feels like it lives in me every time I get knocked down."
I tapped my chest with a fist. "They're here. Not in some fancy speech kind of way. Just… in me. And that's all I've got to hold onto."
The silence stretched. Jiraiya stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
And maybe he was.
Because I wasn't just his student. Not just the "brat" he dragged out of Konoha.
I swallowed, deciding to give him something back. "…You're my godfather, right?"
His jaw tightened, eyes flickering in surprise before guilt clouded them. He looked away, into the fire.
"Yeah," he muttered finally. "I was. Should've been there for you from the start. Minato… he asked me to look after you if anything happened. And I—" His voice cracked, rough with regret. "I failed."
I stared at him, heart twisting. All those years alone, and this man had been meant to be my family.
But I wasn't that lonely kid anymore. Not really. Not with the memories I carried, not with the bonds I'd forged now.
I leaned forward, grin tugging at my lips even as my chest ached. "You didn't fail. You're here now. Teaching me. Believing in me. That's enough."
For a moment, his expression softened, pain easing just a little. He reached out and ruffled my hair, hand heavy and warm.
"You really are their son," he whispered.